Saturday, December 03, 2011

a new magic


the hours are beautifully brittle
great golden days turned sharp,  ice-white
like october's flowers suddenly waking in december
hoary and hanging tightly to themselves

I am there

my heart is the drooping head
of a sunflower in winter
when the great turning has slowed
morning is languid,  through a veil

I am there

dawn's burnished fingers touching seeds
each one, a thousand thousand,
before stepping over hills so slowly
suddenly and forever before me
is lightness

I am there

~Katie Estvold~

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